I could have written a fiction, about visiting my mother’s lost but remembered school and finding a poem written by her when she was nine years old hidden in a forgotten cupboard.

But this is untrue

The poem was written in 1933 and is presented in its entirety. I have made no additions or subtractions.

The Galley Slave

He was a Briton and proud of it too

To Britain his country so loyal and true

No thoughts of escape but a song and a sigh

And a promise of freedom across the seas high

Death was that freedom and he knew it well long

A poor humble death for a man so strong

To row the seas high for many more years

To be lashed with the whip, to fight against fears

This is the fate of the poor galley slaves

Doomed to a boat for the rest of their days